


in these warm hands

by anorchidisnotaflower



Category: Fargo (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, One Shot, Post-Canon, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:47:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27312859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anorchidisnotaflower/pseuds/anorchidisnotaflower
Summary: It’s been a long time since they left Kansas City behind and longer still since they first met. In some ways, Deafy still feels like the strange marshal storming into Odis’ office, his boots taking up space on Odis’ desk.In which Odis Weff and "Deafy" Wickware — together for years — go to the beach.
Relationships: Dick "Deafy" Wickware/Odis Weff
Comments: 9
Kudos: 13





	in these warm hands

**Author's Note:**

> This one's for [winterwinterwinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwinterwinter), who gave me the wonderful idea in the first place.

“Let’s move, Palomino,” Deafy calls, walking into the kitchen with his hat already donned.

Odis looks up from his latest batch of cupcakes, arranged carefully on plates spread across the counter. He frowns but turns back to his work on the frosting, flicking the end to create a perfect whip.

“I still have to finish these,” Odis says. Baking wasn’t so much his idea as it was Deafy’s— every time they visited a diner, Deafy had a tendency to order the sweetest thing on the menu. Odis has a sweet tooth of his own, but baking for two was a lot easier than trying to eat alone.

Deafy whistles, peering at the spread. “We’ll have to send some to the neighbors at the rate you’re going.”

Odis nods, positioning a cupcake just right.

Deafy takes a step closer, laying his hand on the counter, not touching. Odis eyes it, still working on getting the cupcakes in the perfect spot.

“We could both use some fresh air,” Deafy murmurs. “Besides, I think you’ll like where we’re headed.”

Odis finally lets the cupcake go, sighing as he straightens up. “Where to?”

Deafy just smiles. “You’ll see. C’mon, grab your hat.”

“No coat?”

“None needed.”

Odis huffs and glances at Deafy’s hand, still resting on the counter. He hesitates for a moment before laying his hand on top, watching a grin move over Deafy’s face like snow melting from a sidewalk.

“I think you’ll be able to guess,” Deafy says.

Odis squeezes Deafy’s hand once before letting go. “Let’s get going before I guess too quickly.”

Then they’re off, Odis grabbing his hat from the hook as they head out the door. Deafy drives, of course, and Odis just watches the scenery pass them by, the still-cold, slush-covered streets turning to forest, the thin trees poking their way up.

Odis looks over at Deafy every once in a while, tracing the light as it falls on his face, the flicker of landscape that brackets him like a frame. It’s been a long time since they left Kansas City behind and longer still since they first met. In some ways, Deafy still feels like the strange marshal storming into Odis’ office, his boots taking up space on Odis’ desk.

These days, though, Odis asks him to take his shoes off first, and Deafy obliges.

The trees vanish, replaced with rocks and scattered brush, and the sky slinks open, wide and thin above them. It’s not quite blue, but it’s close enough that it doesn’t feel wrung out.

“The beach?” Odis asks. It doesn’t break the silence— more uncovers it, a blanket they shrug off as easy as putting it on.

“Knew you’d guess it,” Deafy smiles. “We should be about ten minutes out. Reckon you’re hungry enough for lunch?”

Odis smiles, looking away. “Reckon so.”

They pull in on a gravel stretch that parallels a rock outcropping, what looks to be a cliff jutting out over the ocean far below them. Deafy pops the trunk, revealing the picnic blanket he’d hidden away and a bag of food, sandwiches and the like inside.

“When did you plan all this?” Odis asks, following Deafy out to the cliff’s edge.

Deafy shrugs. “You were so busy with those cupcakes. It wasn’t hard.”

Odis flushes, hoping Deafy doesn’t see.

“It was a good thing, Odis,” Deafy says, always sensing what he shouldn’t. “No need to be embarrassed. Gave me time to make these sandwiches.”

“Not embarrassed,” Odis mutters, picking his way carefully over the rocks. There’s a haphazard stairway down to the sand, formed with uneven boulders and scraped pathways from years of travel.

“I know.” Deafy hops down to the sand first, looking back at Odis. “But I know you.”

Odis almost smiles. “Too well.”

Deafy holds out a hand in reply, and Odis takes it, letting Deafy guide him down to the sand. Their hands linger on each other for a moment, Deafy’s fingers curling around Odis’, before Odis lets go, shaking off the brief feeling of warmth.

“Come on, Richard,” Odis says, taking the first few steps forward. “Need to find a good spot.”

Deafy follows a few paces behind, his steps hesitant in the soft sand.

There aren’t too many folks out to the beach on a Tuesday afternoon, so the sand is largely theirs for the taking. Odis still picks a spot halfway between the ocean and the cliff, unwilling to move any closer. Deafy’s happy enough to spread the blanket out, and he settles in with an easy sigh and a sandwich in hand.

The ocean waves are a nice enough soundtrack to lunch. There’s the distant splash of a child crashing through the shallow end, running to their mother, and the closer calls of seagulls, floating on air and sneaking through the surf.

Odis polishes off his sandwich in no time and toes off his shoes and socks, letting his feet sink into the sand.

Deafy watches him, leaned back on his elbow. “You’re going to get sand in your shoes.”

“So?” Odis moves sand over his feet, burying them.

Deafy chuckles. “I just didn’t take you for a beach person, is all.”

“I’m not, really,” Odis admits. “But we used to go when I was younger. My mother liked to swim.”

“I think you mentioned that once.” Deafy tilts his head. “What did you like about the beach?”

“Making sandcastles.”

“Of course,” Deafy grins. “Want to make one?”

Odis turns to look at Deafy, blinking at his raised eyebrows. “You serious? We’re not kids.”

“And?” Deafy sits up in one quick movement, rolling up his shirt sleeves. “Two dollars says I’ll beat you.”

Odis shakes his head, but he starts to roll up his sleeves too. “Make it three.”

The sand is a little damp from the air, not quite warm, and it’s just right for castles. Odis quickly has a solid foundation, constructing even turrets and pressing tiny windows into the sides. He looks over at Deafy, and he tries not to laugh at the vague lump of sand Deafy’s constructed.

“Shoot,” Deafy mutters. “Why won’t this sand go where I want it to?”

“You have to be more careful, Richard,” Odis says. “Here. Let me just…”

He falters, his hands stretched out, but Deafy looks up at him, waiting for as long as it takes. Odis finally breathes, placing his hands over Deafy’s, and guides him with the sand. Together, they make a little tower with a roof.

“Hey, not bad,” Deafy laughs, leaning back.

Odis shrugs. “It’s not hard. It’s just a lot more delicate than you’d think.”

Deafy meets Odis’ eyes, and it feels like a little too much truth. Deafy’s quick to distract, though, as he looks over at Odis’ half-finished castle.

“What do you say we connect these two?” Deafy says, pointing to the tower. “They’d go together well.”

Odis smiles, hesitant but sure. “All right.”

It doesn’t take them long to build a little hallway together, carving out a moat around their one big sand building. It’s a little lumpy in parts, a little too precise in others, but it’s kind of nice to see it finished.

“You did pretty good,” Odis says, wiping the sand off his hands. “For your first time.”

Deafy scoffs. “It was not my first time building sandcastles—”

“It absolutely was—”

“You’re just too good at these things—”

“Was that a compliment I heard?” Odis grins.

Deafy sighs. “Fine, I’ll give you that one. You’re good at this.”

Odis settles back onto the blanket, pleased. His hands still carry bits of sand, though, and he keeps brushing at them, frowning when they continue to stick.

“We’re right by the ocean, you know,” Deafy says. “You could wash ‘em off.”

Odis looks out at the waves. “Come with me?”

“Of course.” Deafy stands up, brushing his own hands on his trousers. “Give me a minute to get my shoes off here.”

Odis stands and waits beside him, watching the water crash gently against the shore. He’s never been a strong swimmer, and the ocean has always been a distant memory, one not quite pleasant or cruel. He was just scared of the tide— scared it would drag him under or out to sea.

But walking with Deafy to the water’s edge isn’t so bad. He’d escaped one tide, Deafy at his side, and he could handle this one, too.

Odis walks, barefoot, into the surf, startling when the cold water laps at his ankles.

“Too cold?” Deafy asks, taking a careful step into the water. “Oh, _shoot_. That’s cold.”

Odis laughs. “You’ll get used to it.”

They dip their hands in the water before making their way down the shore, passing the child and his mother splashing in the surf. The sand is chilled and sinks easily under their feet, and the gulls cry overhead, swooping in the oddly warm sea breeze.

At the end of the beach, the thin wooden fence marking out a border, Odis wades further into the ocean. His shins are soaked in a moment, but it feels right, here, to let the water catch him, to know he can always turn away.

When he does look back, Deafy is there waiting for him. His hands are in his pockets, and he’s watching Odis like the sun.

They head down the beach toward their blanket, not speaking, really. They’ve never needed to in moments like these. Deafy’s hand bumps against Odis’ on the walk, and with a deep breath, Odis takes Deafy’s hand in his.

Odis has never been the one to take the first steps, but with Deafy, everything is new, careful. He’s been trying harder, lately, but every time he does, he’s dragged back down under, his paranoia and fear gripping him as easily as it did back in Missouri.

And yet Deafy’s still here, his thumb rubbing across Odis’ knuckles. He hasn’t left once in all this time.

Odis taps away with his free hand, but his hand in Deafy’s is warm.

They spend the rest of the afternoon lounging on the blanket. Deafy reads a roughed-up paperback he brought with him— one of his favorites, some pulp cowboy novel that never interested Odis. One night, though, Odis snuck it off the nightstand and stayed up late paging through it, finding pieces of Deafy scattered throughout: little pencil marks under what must be favorite lines, earmarked pages in place of bookmarks, words rubbed away by time.

Odis just sits with his arms curled around his knees, watching the light bounce off the water. He counts, under his breath, but it’s quiet, less frantic. Deafy’s always right, loathe as Odis is to admit it most days— he needed a break.

As the sun dips lower in the sky, Odis glances more often at the top of Deafy’s head, haloed by the light. These moments like these are few and far between, even in their lives now, far away from the stress and panic that brought them together in the first place. But Odis still finds himself unable to hold them, these flickers of time, as much as he wants to indulge, to reach out and find Deafy reaching back.

So Odis tells himself, okay, go, and then he doesn’t, and he tells himself, okay, now, and he still doesn’t.

But eventually — after watching Deafy read for a while, watching him silently mouth words he’s memorized by heart — Odis stretches out his legs, leans closer to Deafy, and runs a hand over his hair.

Deafy doesn’t even react, really, but Odis spots a little smile curling the corners of his mouth. Odis looks back at the ocean, but there’s a smile on his face, too, one he can’t help, one he wouldn’t want to help.

Deafy’s hair is soft under his fingers. It’s free of product today, and Odis runs his hands through it, finding comfort in the repetition. Deafy sighs, and that’s when he leans in against Odis’ side, his head resting comfortably on Odis’ chest.

Normally they’d leave this kind of thing to the dark— let the night hide away their easy comforts, their fragile ties to one another. But in the sunset light, orange and yielding, it’s good to breathe easy.

Odis closes his eyes, listening to the waves. For one moment, it’s quiet in his head. There’s only Deafy at his side, steady and still, and the sand under his feet, the grains stuck between his toes.

The quiet won’t last. But it’s enough.


End file.
